


Roles to play

by littletechiebird



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes across Jane’s Dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roles to play

They had gone through.. well, a lot.

The scratch had happened, no matter how much they’d tried to stop it. So they hadn’t really saved anything, had they? There was still so much he didn’t understand - if he actually understood anything to begin with, because sometimes he wondered - but he’d never been as confused as he was at that moment.

Their world, their homes.. those had been lost, hadn’t they? So this had to be something different.

He was standing there, trying to convince himself of that as he stood on the sidewalk in front of his house - or at least it looked like his house - and just… stared.

It was all there. 

That old tire swing that hung from the tree in the front yard.

His telescope on the terrace.

Dad’s car in the driveway.

The mailbox that he had checked a million times in such anticipation for SBURB before this all started..

There was a heavy feeling in his limbs and a tightness in his chest. He was so conflicted. His house was somehow… back in place. 

No, no. Wait, John, wait. 

This was not his home. He had to keep telling himself that until he got it.

_But he couldn’t get it_.

And as if all of these details weren’t enough to start with, there was nothing that could have stricken him more when he saw the movement inside the house from the open window at the front of the house.

His stomach dropped into the next universe.

“JOHN.”

He hadn’t heard the dozen times his name had been screamed at him from just a couple feet away. He was a million miles away.

“JOHN FUCKING EGBERT WOULD YOU LISTEN TO ME.”

It would probably be regarded as impressive that he had been able to zone out that much to not be snapped back to reality by his loudmouthed friend.

But maybe the shock and fear had begun to wear off just enough that he was pulled back.

Flinching and blinking, he turned to see Karkat looking at him with the same frustrated expression, except it wasn’t. He swore he saw a little bit of concern reflected back at him.

“w-what?”

He was still distracted, and this was obvious as his eyes flickered back to look to the window that still had his stomach churning and his heart beating that much faster.

“HEY. WELCOME BACK, FUCKASS. I ASKED YOU WHAT WAS WRONG.”

Normally, the snarky response would have brought him to smile and laugh, shrugging off such a tone. But this time, it was like he was barely hearing Karkat at all. It was still so different to actually have him speaking to him. 

“i…”

“I THINK YOU FINALLY FRIED YOUR THINKPAN.”

John seemed to ignore him again, or just not hear him at all.

“..this is my house.”

But this struck even Karkat. 

“WHAT.”

“this.. this is my house. that’s my tire swing from when i was a kid. that telescope up there is mine, too. and… that’s my dad’s car.”

There was a pause, in everything, for Karkat remained quiet. He had realized the moment’s complicated air and nature.

“that’s the scratch i accidentally made once because i swung my rake around when i was raking the leaves.. i was always too scared to tell him.”

Convincing himself, or reminding himself, of this universe’s impossibility to be his own, because he knew what had happened, was not working in the least. He was falling fast into what was surely an unhealthy obsession and panic to prove that this, somehow, was his home and that fate, reality, destiny,  _whatever_ was favoring him and had decided to give him mercy and return what he had lost and given him a second chance.

But his brain was most focused upon what he thought, and hoped, that he had seen in that window - what he knew was, and would be, the kitchen window.

He could already smell those fresh, horrible, cakes of evil. 

Or maybe that was all in his head.

John hadn’t noticed when he had slowly started walking towards the window, making a beeline for it, barely hearing Karkat yelling after him before it had diminished to irritated growling to himself. As he got closer, his nerves grew. He was scared - scared of what he might find. Why? He supposed it was because he had hope. But he wasn’t sure what outcome in his mind might be better, because it had already formed several.

He pressed himself up against the house, his back against the cool wall, his eyes focused on the window as he crouched down and approached it, peering inside tentatively. 

It was then that his heart stopped.

The hat.

The tie.

The pipe.

And the damn cakes.

That witch’s cakes littering the room.

The man bustled around inside of the room, busying himself with the dessert preparation, though he did have a paper lying on the table that he occasionally stopped to glance at, as if allowing himself to read a little more of a story because he had accomplished enough to do so.

Like his movements earlier, John did not notice the wetness on his cheeks.

“JOHN..?”

It seemed like an eternity before he could regain the ability to speak.

“JOHN WHY ARE YOU-”  
  
“…i-it’s him.”

“WHAT-”  


“ _that_  is  _my dad_.”

His tone was urgent, panicked, happy, and terrified all rolled into one.

“BUT HE WAS DEAD. YOU SAID SO YOURSELF.”

“i know i did. and he was. i… i  _know_  he was. i don’t get it either, okay? but that’s him! i would know my own dad when i saw him. wouldn’t you?”

Karkat seemed a bit stricken by the question, but John knew he was right. Parent or Lusus, a child knew and could recognize such an important figure with ease. It was just a given. It was instinct. It was natural, no matter who or what you were.

“YES BUT JOHN-”

“it’s him! karkat, i know its-”

The boy stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth still somewhat open as if ready to continue what he was going to say, though the words had died upon his tongue, and his heart stopped for the second time that day, as his stomach started to betray him and slowly make him feel ill. It was all caused by the girl that walked into the kitchen. Of course, he had no idea who she was and yet - he did. 

His mind instantly started to berate him with that all-knowing voice. 

This is an alternate universe.

An alternate world.

Whatever it was.

But this place was not where he belonged.

This was nothing he knew, no matter how familiar it all looked.

No matter how accurate it was to what he knew, even if it was down to the very detail..

There were always going to be differences.

Everything had it’s place.

It’s duplicate.

But each duplicate did not have to be exactly the same.

It was more a role to be played.

And here, his role… was hers, wasn’t it?

His brain was making sense of things in ways it probably shouldn’t have.

Maybe it was something that came with all the experiences they’d had.

Or the part of rising to be a “god” of some sort.

Like, being screwed over in the sense that you understood what you didn’t want to, when you didn’t want to, and you didn’t understand what you wanted to, when you wanted to.

Sounded pretty believable, considering usual standards.

Shaky steps were taken back, away from the window, suddenly terrified at the thought of being seen. The idea to escape, to run away, and to get away from  _all of this_  could not be more dominant in his mind.

“it’s.. not him.”

The tears were flowing free, and unending. His body had begun to tremble in the slightest, and his head lowered. A shaking hand came to rest over his face, and his body seemed to sway in the slightest as he stepped back just a bit further. 

Karkat was lost on what to do, or what to say - but he wanted to do  _something_.

“..but it has to be him…”

The boy’s voice was broken.

Even if he did not understand this moment in the same sense that John was feeling it, he was at least disturbed by such a dramatic difference in John. He was used to a much, much different demeanor. 

“JOHN…”

“karkat, it  _has_ to be..”

Because how could fate, reality, destiny, or whatever, be so impossibly cruel?


End file.
